


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [19]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Necrophilia, Nightmares, Surrealism, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, corpse mutilation, reader-driven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#frankensteinThis book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read thePrefaceorIntroduction, please head there first.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Edrisa Tanaka
Series: Domino 🁡 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Kudos: 2
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Frankenstein](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685333) by Mary Shelley. 



> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[Frankenstein](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frankenstein) \- Mary Shelley  
>  **— Cover Song:**[All I Want for Christmas is the Beautiful People](https://youtu.be/A1X3d2zWx94) \- Bill McClintock Mashup of Mariah Carey & Marilyn Manson

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/frankenstein.jpg) |   
---|---  
  
Thunder crashed over the rooftops as lightning crisscrossed the black sky like white veins, turning night into day for a brief, blinding second.

Malcolm ran the extra few steps that separated him from the precinct front door. The downpour that had come down as soon as the storm hit had caught most of New York by surprise. Bright had been no exception. His mad dash from the subway to the building, short as it had been, had left him soaking wet

His mother was waiting, as the Whitly children's formal 'invitation' for a late supper every Friday was not something to be lightly ignored. Consequences of non-attendance were usually dire. With the current deluge threatening to turn the streets into rivers and the matching electric storm raging above their heads, there was no way Malcolm was going to make it there in time, even if, by some miracle, he managed to grab a cab in that weather.

The precinct was the safest place nearby, with the added bonus that he now had an excuse to return there after Gil had so unceremoniously kicked him out earlier that day.

It was late enough that only the night crew was inside. Malcolm greeted the officer at the reception desk with a nod before starting the process of peeling off his coat. The fabric clung to his arms like a second skin. He felt like a snake, shedding off his dead skin.

“Cats and dogs, hem?” the officer offered as a greeting.

Malcolm gave him a polite smile. He couldn't remember the man's name and his name tag was hidden behind the desk where he sat. “Elephants too,” he added, quickly looking away when the man gave him an odd look. Elephants were bigger mammals than cats and dogs, so that made sense, right? “Gil and the others still around?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. Small talk had never been his strong suit.

The man took advantage of the distraction to break away from the awkward silence. “They've all gone home, even the boss,” he pointed out, looking at the log.

“And Dr. Tanaka?”

The officer looked down again, his finger following the written lines on the book. Twenty-first century, and they still used paper to register staff comings and goings. “I don't see her name, but she often forgets to sign off,” he offered with a shrug, probably a derogative one towards scientists in general and women in particular.

Suddenly, Malcolm had no desire to remain in that man's company. “I'll check downstairs,” he let out, throwing his soggy jacket over a hanger by the door and moving to the staircase.

Behind him, he could hear a faint complaint about not having signed in, but he couldn't care less. There was no need for Gil to know that he had come back to the precinct, even if he had a storm to blame.

He doubted there was anyone at the morgue at these hours. The lights, dimmed down as they were for energy saving, flickered in and out. The way thunder kept 'bombing' their little piece of the city, odds were they were going to get cut off sooner or later.

Unlike most people, Malcolm liked the morgue. It was quiet and safe, a place to either get the answers that he needed or an extra snack. Edrisa always had something to eat around and, more often than not, it was something he loved.

“Edrisa?” he called out. Thunder crashed outside, taking with it the lights. Malcolm cursed, fishing his phone from his soggy pants' pocket. He fumbled with the print ID over the wet screen, finally managing to get some light. “You here?”

The silence was deafening. All he could hear was the storm outside and his shoes, squelching with each step he took. He felt a shiver run down his back, the fine hair at the base of his skull standing to attention. It was just a reaction to the storm, he told himself, a remnant flight-feeling left over from their caveman ancestors and their natural fear of the elements.

No one answered his call. Still, as he drew closer, Malcolm could hear someone moving on the other side of the door. “Edrisa, everything okay?” he asked, pushing the door open.

His mind was not ready for the image his eyes were seeing. And what the mind doesn't register, the eyes don't see.

The first thing he noticed were the open windows, allowing the wind and rain to blast inside the small room. The place was barely lit, with just a few emergency lights on and the occasional explosion of white light from the lightning outside.

Edrisa was standing over a body on the slab, her hair frizzy from all the static around them. She was so focused on her work that she didn't realize she had company.

Initially, Malcolm found it odd that she was performing an autopsy in the dark. If he could barely see the body, how could she do her job right?

Then he noticed the body.

There was something very strangely familiar about the naked man on the table, something that Malcolm couldn't quite pinpoint. Aside from the usual Y incision across his chest, there were more sutures than usual, over his legs and arms, even his neck. “Edrisa, didn't you hear me?” he called out again, this time louder than the booming thunder, hoping to get her attention. As she kept on ignoring him, Malcolm walked closer, resting a hand over her shoulder. “Why are you working here so late...in the dark?”

The small woman did turn as she felt his touch. She was wearing a pair of large goggles with blue-tinted lenses that made her eyes bulge out like a bug's. That, however, was not what caught Malcolm's attention. His gaze was trapped by the face of the dead man resting on the table.

The face was like a jigsaw puzzle of bits and pieces, all glued together by Edrisa's fine stitching. Nose, eyes, mouth, even the cheeks held evidence of having been added to the face structure.

“Beautiful, isn't he?” she asked, looking back at the dead man.

 _Beautiful_ wasn't exactly the word the profiler would use, but he was accustomed to Edrisa's quirks, so similar to his own. There was very little beauty to be found in a corpse that looked more a patchwork quilt than a person. “What happened to him? Car crash?” he couldn't help but ask. If this had been the work of a killer, he would have certainly been familiar with the case. The only thing they had been currently working on was a death by poison. A car crash was the only thing he could think capable of such a level of destruction.

She smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from the corpse. “Oddly enough, the lips were the hardest thing to find,” she went on, ignoring his words as she had ignored his calling out to her. “But I got lucky yesterday!” she added excitedly, looking between him and the dead man. “I think it's pretty close...”

Malcolm eyebrows deepened in a frown. Why was Edrisa comparing his lips to the man on the table...

He took a closer look, trying to look past the sutures and skin discoloration. The round nose, the slightly pointy ears and round cheeks...it wasn't exactly like looking in the mirror, but it was close enough to send another shiver down his spine. “What the hell--!?”

Edrisa turned around, leaning against the table in a casual and confident manner that wasn't usual for her. “I gave you all the hints, Bright,” she told him, her head tilted sideways, like she was sizing him up. “I went as far as asking you to come to my place to solve a puzzle, but you always kept silent. Kept on flirting, even though it really never went anywhere,” she went on, a disapproving look upon her face. “A woman can only wait so long before she takes matters into her own hands.”

Malcolm looked at the thick, black cables coiled around the floor like wet noodles. His eyes followed them across the room and up the wall before disappearing through the open window. Every time lightning struck outside, the cables became lit with sparkling electricity, convulsing on the floor as energy coursed through them. He looked between the usually gentle and shy woman and the dead corpse on the table. A corpse built in his image. What was she trying to do?

“I told you I like puzzles.” She smiled at him sweetly, closing the distance between them. “I managed to put everything in there that a body needs to function, but I'm still missing a piece. A very important piece...”

“Wh-what do you mean?” the profiler stuttered, taking a step back. Although the woman was half his size, there was something about her determination and self-assurance that told him to be careful.

“I don't want a simple man-puppet to satisfy my needs,” the petite doctor said with a disgusted shrug. “I mean, I want that _too,_ of course,” she pointed out with an eye-roll. “But I also want someone to talk to, to share experiences, to solve crimes with!”

There were _so_ many things wrong with the words coming out of her mouth. Malcolm backed away until he felt the cold wall pressed against his back. As lightning filled the dark room, it caught the edge of the sharp scalpel in the woman's hand. “Edrisa, life doesn't work like that; love doesn't work like th-...listen, I'm sorry for never being completely honest with you, but knitting together pieces of corpses is not the answer. It will never be a real person!”

Edrisa giggled, trapping him against the wall. Her small, gloved hand pushed against his chest with more strength than he would ever imagine her possessing. “I know that, Bright. I _do_ have a medical degree, remember?” she said. “That's why I need your brain. It's the only piece I'm missing before I can bring my creation to life!”

Malcolm blinked, sure he had heard wrong. “Wha-what? No, you can't have my brain!” he gasped, pushing her away. Instead of moving away, Edrisa kicked at his left knee, effectively bringing the profiler to a more manageable height. He fell down with a thud, wet clothes slipping on the floor. “This isn't you! What the hell is going on in here?”

“This is what you get when you play with people's feelings, Bright,” the medical examiner told him before pressing the tip of her blade to his forehead with deadly precision. “You should wake up and smell the roses!”

Malcolm screamed as she started to cut away.

— ◌◯◌ —

"Why are you quiet — we need to keep talking to him," Edrisa says, the sliding glass door not even closed behind her before she starts speaking.

"Edrisa — "

"It's _very_ important. We can speed his recovery by sharing stories, our familiar voices making him more aware of where he is. That's what some research suggests, at least, and why not try it if there's a chance it might work? It's not like we have anything better to do sitting in a hospital room," she rambles, looking around the room. "Mrs. Whitly! How are you? Oh, probably wrong question, not really the best thing to ask right now — "

"Edrisa, please sit," Gil requests, standing to vacate his chair. "Jess — do you want to take a break? Go for a walk or get some food?"

"I'll be back," Jessica indicates, taking the opportunity to escape.

"Was it something I said?" Edrisa asks Gil when they're the only two left in the room.

"We've been dealing with a lot. Haven't slept. It's a serious situation."

"But it doesn't mean we give up on him." She holds her offerings out to Gil. "Lounge socks with lotion in them and sticky grips so he stays warm, soft, and doesn't fall. Earl Grey and lavender so he's surrounded with familiar scents. And I have a playlist on my phone with some of his favorites — it took a friend to find his Spotify account, but I'll take him getting angry with me later so he can pull through this."

"Edrisa." She looks at Gil, thinking he's going to scold her again. "This was very thoughtful of you. Thank you."

She beams at the praise, glad she could do something for the profiler. "Now, do you want to hear about the case, a book, my favorite memories of Bright — "

"Let's start with the case."

Edrisa leans forward in the chair, occasionally brushing the sheet on the bed, sometimes touching Bright's hand as she shares case details, then anecdotes of their work together. It's odd to have him be so silent through the conversation, but it gives her some hope that maybe, just _maybe_ , she's doing something that will bring him back to them. For the sake of the people who gather in the hospital and the team that asks for him back at the precinct, he needs to recover.

She can't bear the thought of seeing him on her table. Not that she'd ever do the autopsy, but she'd sure find a way to sneak into whoever did to make sure everything is done right.

For Bright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another book. :)


End file.
